Dr Dre As The World Keeps Turning lyrics

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Dr Dre As The World Keeps Turning lyrics

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Intro/Chorus:
 As the world keeps turning  chronic keeps burning
 (This ain't no) street sermon  these niggas are determined
 *Repeat*
 Verse 1:Where
 I flow like CD's in the deck
 Moosh fools in the face that lack respect
 Protect ya arm  pitch from the funk
 I deodirise the musty  ya rhymes are crusty  you can't bust G
 So leave me alone I'm in the zone
 Walkin the streets on my own, nigga get blown
 Some niggas say that nigga Where is gone
 But I'm low in the cut and gotta microphone
 Are you gone bust or play bones?
 You motherfuckin clone, get off that nigga's style and get'cha own
 It's Miscellane and it's on again
 For the niggas that slept, they shoulda stayed in step
 And kept ya big fuckin mouth shut
 Chorus
 Verse 2:Where
 I woke up with a stomach ache, headache, back ache
 Advil, Tylenol, Peptol, slept so long realised my world is wrong
 My world is gone like disco
 Blowin up Cisco and in my Cammo
 Standin in back of me was my soul
 Thinking of the easiest way to get a bank roll
 Knowledge is urban-able, exhaust manifold
 A tar can of hos to lubricate my system quick
 Shaky bitches off the dick
 Cos she got a vice grip on the flow from my lips
 I'm slow but equipped with the proper tools
 Show me the one talkin shit so I can drop a fool
 I'm out to glow a nigga roll if he think he Mr CREAM
 Come back on the scene and smoke a phillie, G
 I really dream of gettin mine now let me tell you what's silly
 Me, buckin with my team is murder one
 I heard a gun bustin shots (SHOTS!), down the block (BLOCK!)
 I guess a nigga gettin what he got (GOT!)
 Shit is heavy like a medicine ball and broke niggas to smoke niggas
 I'll fuck one for y'all, they made ya last phone call
 To a trick that didn't even care
 Cos she was gettin fucked somewhere, you're stuck in there
 Now you wanna bust, nigga, now you wanna kill, nigga (Nigga)
 Nigga how ya feel? (Nigga)
 You can't try to be real (You can't try to be real)
 Shit is for real
 Chorus
 Verse 3:Where
 I'm cooler than most, but I got the shorter temper
 And I'm cooler than foes that don't know how it goes
 Let's take it back to the first side
 When you was a new jack and jockin my new track
 But you was wrong, didn't know about the big long
 Head-strong, nicknamed Dav from off the school yard
 Witta teenage group I'm turnin loots to tracks
 Me and my niggas like (These tracks are laced with bomb weed and tight
 lyrics)
 You wanna know what the hos used to do
 When me and my crew came bustin through
 All sorts of blushins brew
 (A neighbourhood find, a gift too swift, Miscellane is the crew)
 Underground till my brown eyed balls turned blue
 This is for the bitches and niggas that wanna front
 I smoke on, I broke on till I spoke on
 Miscellane packin shows like Farrakhan
 Where is on another level with two niggas that's on the same plateau
 Now that's three times your tightest flow
 And three times ya tightest track, three times your fattest sack
 Three times is clever (BUCK!)
 Chorus x 2
 Outro:
 Thou shalt rest in grief who lay buried in the belt
 Barely included work, leaves bodies scarred and hurt
 To art in hell, where the next man dwells
 The place with stankin pussy and crack rock dwells

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